


Spilt

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 11:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto’s scolded by his king.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	Spilt

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“You’ve been bad, Prompto.”

Prompto’s head snaps up. His breath catches, and he stiffly rises from his bow, lifting off the floor to stand before his king. Noctis lounges in the throne they all fought so hard for, looking every bit the ruler of their world. New lines and stubble have aged his handsome face, but he’s still every bit as beautiful as when Prompto first fell in love with him over a decade ago. Prompto’s heart beats faster at the harshness in Noctis’ voice, then faster still when Noctis rises from his throne. 

He begins strolling slowly down the steps, adding, “Very, _very_ bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Prompto swallows. “Your Majesty, I—”

“Silence.”

Prompto instantly shuts his mouth. The command was spoken quietly, softly, but so _powerful_. Prompto shivers and hangs his head. Then Noctis reaches him, stopping just a few steps away. His hand rises, flattening against the breast of Prompto’s Crownsguard uniform. 

“I thought you were proud to serve me,” Noctis murmurs. 

Prompto insists, “I _am_.”

“And yet you defile your outfit, when you know it was made especially for you.”

Prompto swallows. He has no comeback for that. Noctis’ fingers slowly trail down his chest, stimulating Prompto far more than they should—all it takes is the littlest bit of attention from Noctis, and Prompto’s drooling for _more_. He always yearns for Noctis’ hands on him, any way that he can get it. Noctis’ touch is feather-light, gentle, almost a caress. Then Noctis’ fingertips brush across the mustard stain at his left hip. He dropped lunch in his lap. The garish yellow swash clashes horribly with the elegant blacks and deep blues of the outfit. 

Then Noctis says what Prompto’s been waiting to hear. He orders: “Take it off.”

Prompto’s blood is pounding in his ears. He leaps to obey, like he always does, always eager for all of his king’s whims. He begins unfastening the buttons of his uniform one by one, but Noctis doesn’t seem to have the patience—he reaches out and rips it open. Prompto blushes but doesn’t miss a beat. He obligingly shoves the heavy jacket from his shoulders. Noctis clicks his tongue and lies, “Looks like it soaked through.”

Prompto doesn’t need to be told what that means. He pulls his undershirt over his head, discarding it atop his jacket, leaving his bare chest fully on display. He glances up through his lashes, only to see Noctis nod towards his trousers, and then he’s shoving those down too. He doesn’t spare his underwear. He strips himself completely bare before his king, then stands there utterly naked, withstanding Noctis’ heated scrutiny. A faint grin tugs at the corners of Noctis’ lips. 

Noctis all but purrs, “Now, prove to your king that you have more respect for the Crown than you just showed.”

Prompto swallows his smile. He nods his head and kneels down as Noctis steps forward, both done with the foreplay and ready for the _fun_.


End file.
